Consequences
by NaomiJameston
Summary: Hermione is smart and assertive... a deadly combination when she wants something...


Title: An Evening To Remember

Summary: Hermione is assertive and smart… a deadly combination when she wants something for herself.

Couple: HG/SS

Disclaimer: Wish I owned them, but alas, I do not. J K Rowling holds the privilege.

Hermione knew she shouldn't do it, knew the consequences of her actions, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, that is, except _him_. The one who set her heart on fire and made her insides turn to liquid whenever he looked at her. She knew it was wrong, knew he couldn't possibly know how she felt and even if he did, he would most likely scoff at her and turn her desires to his advantage.

She crept along the corridors, willing Filch and his damn cat away for the minutes she needed to get to the dungeons. She pondered his reaction to her intrusion at this time of night, especially as it was the holidays, but try as she might, her mind drew a blank whenever she thought his name. Thought of how his hands would feel, his lips…

The moisture gathered between her legs, but she would not stop to give it the attention it craved. She had spent too much time thinking about that particular problem lately, she decided, and now she was going to find the answer, even at the cost of her sanity. She would find his feelings tonight, and tonight would either kill her, or bring her back to life, literally.

She was not one of those silly firsties that thought she had a crush. No. She had bypassed crush and gone straight to lust. Love? No, she could not love. Love would kill her; it would. Love had destroyed her family. It would not destroy her. If she ever felt the pricklings of love begin in her heart, she would be quick to remove the object of that love, as her father had taught her to do. She would not fall victim to it, as her mother had done, and she would not allow it to overpower her, as her father had done.

Love was evil. Love had stolen her mother from her, as it had her father. She was alone in her life, though she would never admit it to anyone. No, it was better to live alone than to love, despite what those stupid books Lavender and Padma forced her to read said. No, she would never feel that soul-crushing madness. Lust was more than enough for her, and now, that lust needed attending to.

Ah, there it was. The door she wanted, leading straight into the dungeons and to the object of her desire.

She pushed it open softly, closed it just as softly and quietly viewed her surroundings. Just as planned. He was already asleep, probably dreaming nothing, thanks to those potions he and Madame Pomfrey experimented with. She envied him that, wished for the same release, only without the nasty side effects. She had no need to be even bitchier than she already was, thank you very much. And she wasn't so much bitchy as she was assertive. Assertive, _that_ was the word. She knew what was hers and what wasn't, and didn't give a rat's tit about anything. So who cared that he would probably reject her? Not her. She had dealt with rejection her entire life, even if it was indirectly. Her friends didn't mean to reject her; it just happened that way. As long as she was there, they saw no reason to pay any attention to her, like the sheets on their beds. They saw her as nothing more than the brains, the smart one, the one who would succeed. The one who never did anything out of the ordinary. Well, that was going to change. Right now.

She crept her way into the room slowly, making sure she made no noise whatsoever and allowed her eyes to adjust. She had never been here before, but she was pretty sure she knew where everything would be, since she knew him just as well, if not better than most did.

There was the bed, and inside it was the slumbering body. Perfect. This couldn't have been better if she had planned it herself, which, of course, she _had_. She was the one who had slipped him the potion, ensuring that he would be out cold, and allowing, -no, forcing- his mind to simply think this was nothing but a dream. Just a pleasant dream that would repeat itself as often as she felt it was necessary. Perfect.

She slid closer to the bed, moving to sit on the edge of it. That achieved, she looked closer at his sleeping head. So innocent, so calm. He didn't know, had no idea what she was going to make him feel soon enough. He would know perfection before the night was done, and he would have her name to put to it, too.

Almost of its own will, her hand smoothed his hair out of his face, allowing soft caresses before pulling back. He stirred slightly, unconsciously responding to the feeling. She smiled, just a little. There was a bigger victory to be had, but unfortunately for her, he must be awake for her talents to be given their full due. Viktor had taught her that, had taught her many things, in fact.

She leaned down and licked his ear, and blew on it. He moaned deeply, arms reaching for what had made that delicious feeling. She bit down softly on the lobe, guiding one hand to her face. Kissed the palm.

"Wake up," she whispered against his lips a second before she kissed him gently, chastely. She wanted to do more, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to keep the game up if she did. If she pressed her advantage too fast, he would realize the truth and push her away, possibly getting her expelled. She shivered in delicious anticipation of the danger. She nipped his bottom lip just a teeny bit, wanting his attention. His arms found her back, and he tried to pull her against his body. She pulled back, lightly resting her finger against his lips.

"You have to wake up first, before you get anymore than that, silly." She laughed softly at his groan. "Come on. You know you truly do want to wake up. You want to know who or what is doing this to you, don't you?" She fluttered her fingers over his chest, still clothed, but not for long. He moaned again, but his eyes opened slightly.

"Miss Granger?" he asked, surprise coloring his pupils. His eyes opened all the way, forcing him to become instantly alert. "What are you doing?"

"I think it would be obvious," she whispered, playing casually with one of his shirt buttons. She paused. "But if it isn't, I could always go…"

Severus Snape groaned, eyes closing slightly, hand traveling to his forehead as if to soothe an ache. "You shouldn't be here, Miss Granger."

"Why not?"

"You are a student."

"And this is a dream, Severus." He sat up, almost knocking her over. She continued, feeling hope at the anxious look in his face. "You dreamed me up. You asked me to represent the real Hermione Granger for this night and any night hereafter that you required my services. Didn't you?" She bit her bottom lip, summoning a sad expression to her face, something she would never show in public, and he knew it.

He relaxed, his face collapsing easily into a smirk. "Then why haven't you come before?" he asked her. She knew that if she got the answer wrong, the game would be up and she would have no honor left to her name, not to imply that she had any in the first place, mind you.

"I came when you needed me the most; when I could _be_ Hermione Granger for you. When I could look exactly like her, sound like her…" Now or never, she thought to herself. "When I could even taste like her." She pressed her lips to his again, softly, allowing him the first move.

"Oh, at last," he mumbled against her lips. Next thing she knew, she was laying beneath him, almost crushed by his weight. His hands carefully undid her robe, peeling it off her body and throwing it casually on the chair nearby. She didn't have anywhere near the patience to do the same for him, so she merely ripped the shirt off his lean form, making a mental note to repair it before she left.

Severus rolled again, bringing her to lie above him. His hand worked at her blouse, tearing the fabric apart much as she had done. Another mental note. She didn't make a sound until his knuckles casually brushed the side of her breast as he pulled the blouse from her. Severus looked at her strangely, and repeated the brushing, eliciting a much louder response. He chuckled quietly, and reached his hands around her back.

Hermione felt the bra snap loose and struggle to free herself from it. She tossed the flimsy lace thing away, making sure it landed with her robe. She gasped loudly as Severus' hand closed over the entirety of it. His fingers pinched the nipples at the same time, drawing a moan from her tightly closed lips.

The fingers disappeared. She snapped her head down to look at him, meeting his amused features. She held the gaze a moment longer, until his lips closed around her left nipple. Her head fell back, and his hand was there to catch it and hold it safe. Small stars exploded behind her lids as she shifted in his lap and his erection slid along her inner thigh. He moaned, never taking her breast from his mouth.

She grabbed his hair, kneading his head to and fro with her hands unconsciously. She rolled them over again, not taking her hands from his head, nor his from hers. She slid her right hand down his side, marveling at his muscles. How the hell had the potions master come by with such a fantastic physique? His arms around her were so strong, and she felt so protected… Accidentally-on-purpose she lifted her hips and thrust her hand down. Both met his arousal at the same instant. He growled fiercely, but slid his hips along her thighs and into her hand.

Hermione, sensing his desperation, yanked with both hands at the drawstring that held his pants up. She slid pants and boxers to his feet in one fluid motion, repeating the process on herself, leaving naught but air between them.

"Oh, Hermione…" Severus trailed off, pulling back from her breasts. He slid along her body until they were nose to nose. "Bad girl."

She giggled. "Then punish me." She rolled her hips upwards, making featherlight touches on his member. "Show me, Severus. Make me yours."

Well, Severus was no fool and only a fool would have refused that request. With only a brush of knuckles along her jaw as a warning, he slid into her with one thrust. For a moment, neither one could move, both caught up in the perfection of the moment. Neither knew who moved first, but before they could react to it, their natural rhythm resonated between them. They were now simply male and female, repeating a function as natural as breathing. More so, in fact.

Tension rode between them, hard and fast, until it became too much to handle. Ironically, it was Hermione that came first. She screamed to the rafters, not caring if anyone would hear, and the walls of her sex clamped around Severus. The pressure was too much, and on the echoes of her scream, his harsh shout followed.

Slowly, very slowly, reality swept back to the couple. Severus' arms collapsed beneath him, dropping most of his weight on the bed and taking Hermione with him. She curled in his arms, quite content to let her fingers slide where they would on his chest. He chuckled at her, and captured the hand in his. He kissed each joint and every tendon, but was much too satisfied to do much more that night.

His eyes drifted shut, but he wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep. Everyone knew that if you fell asleep in a dream, you would wake up in the dreaded real world. He loathed the very idea, and clutched tight to the form in his arms.

"Severus, you're crushing me," Hermione complained. "What's wrong?"

"Don't… Can't fall…" A large yawn. "Asleep…"

"Silly Sev." She laughed softly and kissed him, letting her tongue taste him. "You can dream of me again."

"Really?"

"Of course! You made me, remember? All you have to do is tell me when you want to see me next."

"Tomorrow night." He sighed once and was asleep. Hermione blinked her eyes rapidly, willing sleep from them and carefully extracted herself from his arms. She toyed with the idea of giving him a really large stuffed animal to cuddle with, but dismissed the notion. It wouldn't do for Severus Snape to wake with a bear in his bed, or her, for that matter. She gathered her clothes and slipped out the door, waving her wand and willing them all into place.

The next morning found her rising late. Actually, truth be told, she still wouldn't be awake except for two pairs of eyes staring at her.

"Is she dead?" Ron asked, reaching an arm out to poke Hermione's ribs.

"Touch me and that hand will never touch anything again, Ron."

"Sorry, Ron. She's alive," Harry teased. He hauled Hermione up by her shoulders and pulled her out of bed. "Come on, rise and shine, Hermione!"

"Harry, you are much too cheerful for a Saturday morning," she muttered, pushing him gently away and making her way to her wardrobe. Going through her clothes she paused for a moment. "What time is it?"

Ron answered. "Breakfast is in about ten minutes. So get dressed so we can eat, please!"

A small smile crept along the corners of her lips. "Sorry, Ron, but you know how long it takes me to pick out a robe in the morning. Be patient and good things will happen to you."

He moaned and clutched his stomach, miming his death. Finally, he ended up on his back, twitching and gasping, going limp. Harry and Hermione shared a laugh at the episode, applauding the spectacular death scene, but nothing would make Hermione hurry. Snatching a robe from the back of her closet, she threw it on the bed. Waving her wand over her head, she transfigured her pajamas into a tight tank top, with built in bra, of course, and form-fitting jeans. She frowned slightly, realizing that the shirt was white, but hopefully it wouldn't rain today. She didn't fancy a wet t-shirt contest with Pansy and Millicent, those pugs.

As they made their way into the Great Hall, Hermione couldn't help grinning. She wondered what would show on Snape's face when she entered; probably nothing, knowing that prude. Just to help her lie, he wouldn't tell anyone about the 'dream' he had had the night before.

She chuckled as they sat down, glancing at the teachers' dais. He was there, to the left of Professor Dumbledore. And… oh, Merlin, he was looking at _her_! She snapped her attention back to the breakfast table.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione glanced back at the teachers' table, and seeing Snape occupied, laughed again.

"Just a dream I had, Harry." Snape heard her, and stared at her again. "Just a dream," she repeated, winking at Snape under lashes.

The End


End file.
